Partners and Paperwork
by Sashile
Summary: One-shot, episode addition to "Dead Reckoning". Tony and Ziva are stuck at the office late to finish paperwork, and Tony finally gets to ask about what's been bothering him for months. Tiva talking and being Tiva-ish.


**Partners and Paperwork**

_Disclaimer: I still don't own anything even remotely related to NCIS (unless you count the fact that I own an Ohio State tee-shirt, and Tony DiNozzo owns an Ohio State tee-shirt, but that's a rather loose association). It is my birthday today, though, and if someone decides to gift wrap the show and have it delivered to my apartment as a birthday present, I won't turn it away. I also accept birthday gifts in the form of reviews, for those of you who don't have any piece of NCIS to offer me. Anyway..._

_Spoilers: I guess _Dead Reckoning_, with touches of _Knockout

_Summary: It's a one-shot that takes place at the end of _Dead Reckoning_. That's really all you need to know. And I wrote parts of it at 3am while I was sleep deprived and on-call Friday night (Saturday morning?), so if parts don't seem to make sense, that's probably why. _

* * *

NCIS Special Agent Tony DiNozzo glanced across the bullpen to watch his partner. In the dim evening lights of the building, her face had an odd glow from the screen of her computer and the small desk lamp. Even with the strange lighting, there was no denying how attractive she was. He had always thought so, of course, but for the most part, it was a thought that he had kept somewhere hidden in the back of his mind, somewhere behind Gibbs' rules and the previous disastrous results of mixing work with pleasure. "Tony," Mossad Officer Ziva David's voice interjected into his thoughts, her eyes still fixed on the computer screen in front of her--with what had happened in the safe house earlier, she would be filling out paperwork for awhile. "What do you need?"

"What was the deal with the safe house?" he blurted out, not meaning to say anything. Ziva finally looked up from her screen, a look on confusion on her face.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked. "If you are referring to the fact that I told you to watch Sterling while I—"

"No, not that," he interrupted. "I'm okay with letting you doing the ass-kicking." She was much better at it than he was. "That place was a mess when we arrived."

"Yes," she said slowly. "We had not had the opportunity to flatten it—"

"_Straighten_ it," he corrected. "But you said you and McGee…" He trailed off when he noticed the slight smirk on Ziva's face as she stood to pick up the papers that the printer had just spouted out.

"Are you jealous, Tony?" she teased. He snorted.

"Jealous? Of McGeek? Right." She just gave him a knowing look as she returned to her desk and started making her way through the stacks of papers, scribbling her signature quickly as she went. "What were you guys doing in the safe house?" he blurted out.

She glanced up again before returning her attention to the papers. "Guarding our witness," she replied. "That is the purpose of the safe house, yes?"

"What?"

"Your turn would have been next, had the case not wrapped up when it had," she continued. She looked up to see the look of confusion still on his face. "Tara Kole?" she prompted.

"Oh," he replied. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about that so quickly, especially considering that he had been the one to drop Kole off at the safe house in the first place. Of course, he had been so distracted by what she had said right before leaving the car that it was no wonder he had forgotten the minute details of that mission. "So the fact that the bed was messed up—"

"I am not sleeping with McGee," Ziva said. The speed of the denial brought a quick grin to DiNozzo's face. It wasn't necessarily that he thought they were, but with how, well, _off_ he had been the last few months, especially since Tara Kole and her damned comments, it took just the vaguest suggestion into the back of his mind to send his imagination off to places he didn't want it to go. And the fact that Ziva and McGee had been paired up more than usual lately didn't help things out much. After all, that used to be _him_ who was always sent off with Ziva to check on something or bring someone in or protect someone from harm. Gibbs sending them together to keep an eye on Sterling—and what a disaster _that_ proved to be—was the first time that had happened in awhile. One of these days he'd get up the courage to ask Gibbs what that was all about. "Besides," Ziva continued, cutting off his internal monologue. "If we were sleeping together, I do not think the NCIS safe house would be the ideal location for such a liaison. We both have our own apartments, they are located fairly near each other—"

"You've given this some thought." That knowing smile returned to Ziva's face.

"You _are_ jealous," she pointed out.

"No," he denied, but he knew he didn't have a good argument. "It's just… You and McGee were guarding Tara Kole, Gibbs is always sending you two off together to work on something, and the first time we're assigned together in what seems like months, you spent half of the time flirting with the brains behind the man who was on our Most Wanted wall."

"I was not flirting," she replied defensively. "I was only trying to boost his confidence. And I did not know that he was the brains behind Siravo. If I had—"

"You would have gone Annie Oakley on_ his_ ass instead of the guys who tried to kill him," DiNozzo finished for her. She blinked, confusion on her face showing that she did not understand the reference. "Female sharpshooter in the wild, wild West? Played by Geraldine Chaplin in the 1976 film—"

"I do not want to hear about your movie characters, Tony."

"But she was real! I'm actually surprised that you haven't heard of her, considering—." He stopped talking when he noticed the exasperated look on Ziva's face. "Good job in the safe house, by the way. I don't know if I said that already."

"You did."

He waited for her to say something else, but her attention was already back on that pile of papers. She was about halfway through the stack, from the looks of it. He wondered if there was so much there because she had to fill out everything in duplicate, considering that she had shot two men with two different weapons. He opened his mouth to ask, but closed it again without saying anything. He figured he should probably let her finish her work so she could get going for the evening.

"Tony." The tone in her voice was still exasperated, and he looked up to see her looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "Why are you still here?"

"Gibbs made me rewrite my report," he replied, pointing at his computer screen. "He muttered something about the margins and then said he was going to get coffee, but that was almost an hour ago. Do you think he got lost on the way back from his coffee shop?"

"He could navigate the path from his coffee shop to his desk drunk, blindfolded, and in the middle of a terrorist attack," Ziva replied. Tony had to smile at that; it _was_ a route that Gibbs walked fairly often. She glanced up at him again. "Are you really that upset that McGee and I have been working together more in the last few months?"

"I was just wondering if there was a reason."

"I did not ask Gibbs to change things around, if that is what you are asking." It was, actually. He didn't know how he should feel about the fact that she knew him well enough to know that. "I can ask him to change things back, if you would prefer. He would, if I asked."

He wondered what that was about, but didn't say anything, knowing how jealous that would sound. Instead, he just waved the comment aside and pretended to return his attention the computer screen. "I think working with you more will be good for our little McGoo. Maybe he'll learn to grow a pair." Ziva smirked slightly at that, but didn't say anything in response. They both continued their respective paperwork in relative silence.

He was just finishing with the second attempt on his report when he heard the _snap_ of the stapler as Ziva prepared the required paperwork to be sent to legal. "Any plans for the night?" he asked. She glanced at the clock on her computer monitor and frowned slightly.

"It is 2330," she pointed out. "And we have work tomorrow."

"You saying you've never stayed out late on a school night?" he asked with a grin as he sent the report to the printer. She frowned at the question, but didn't reply. "Come on. I know it's not _Goodfellas,_ but there's a midnight showing of _Strangers on a Train_ tonight. Classic Alfred Hitchcock film about—"

"I have read the book," she interrupted. He frowned.

"There's a book?" That earned him an eyeroll.

"I do not think so, Tony."

"C'mon. What else are you going to do—practice your air guitar again?" He grinned at the quick look she gave him, one that was part embarrassment, part annoyance, and part astonishment that he had known about that. "I'll buy those gummy bears you like."

She appeared to think about it for a minute, and to his slight surprise, nodded her assent. He grinned at having finally gotten her to agree to something 'frivolous', although his smile faded significantly at the next thing she said as they headed for the elevators. "But I am driving."

"Oh, come on!" he protested. "There's no point in going to see a movie if you're not going to survive the drive to the theater."

"I have not killed anyone with my driving yet."

He somehow doubted that statement, but wasn't about to call her out on it. "The operative word there being 'yet'."

"Maybe you should take McGee instead, then," she replied, a teasing smile on her face. "His driving is much more…cautious than mine."

"NASCAR drivers are more cautious than you," he countered. "And while it is true that McGee probably would get us to the theater in one piece—although probably ten minutes after the movie starts—and he doesn't interrupt the dialogue with questions about what's being said or comments about how something is different than the book every two minutes, he's not exactly my first choice for a post-case celebratory midnight movie."

She smiled slightly as she unlocked the door to her Mini. "Nor is he mine."


End file.
